


Ground Rules

by greenwillow



Series: Top of the Class [3]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, GET IT AETHELFLAED, Oral Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28038975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenwillow/pseuds/greenwillow
Summary: Aldhelm, somewhat to Aethelflaed's surprise, accepts the offer of a drink at her place. Now that they're alone and off school grounds the real fun begins--after a very important conversation, of course.
Relationships: Aethelflaed Lady of Mercia/Aldhelm (The Last Kingdom)
Series: Top of the Class [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048940
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	Ground Rules

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has a bit of smut, so if that's not your thing feel free to skip or skim!

Aldhelm walks beside her balancing his stack of books with impressive skill as they cross over the back end of campus and up her street. The quiet that lingers between them is not so much tense as electric. They pass a few students on their way, but none seem to pay them any mind.

Aethelflaed’s stomach flutters with more nervousness than she had expected. If she is honest with herself, she’s surprised he accepted her invitation at all. She had assumed he would make an excuse, or declare outright that a rendezvous would be improper, or perhaps dash out of the room on a fabricated phone call. The way he’d given in after only a few moments hesitation seemed almost too spontaneous for the man she’d observed over the past several months.

The fact that her plan has worked turns her on, but that stimulation pales in comparison to the fact that he hadn’t done what she’d expected him to. There are hidden depths to Aldhelm—this she had known—but also hidden peaks, concealed among the clouds that sometimes surround his head when he is caught up in ideals rather than his present reality.

Aethelflaed has spent a not insignificant amount of time mulling over her attraction to him. It hadn’t been instantaneous, the way it usually is with her. Her crush, if she can call it that, has developed slowly. She hadn't thought of him in a non-academic context at all during the previous semester. Then during his first lecture of the fall term, she realizes she’s distracted by the way his shoulders look when he’s removed his jacket—they are broader than she’d realized, a nice shape to them as he stands arms crossed at the top of the class. When he pushes up his sleeves and leans over the desk on tented fingers, one eyebrow raised as he nods along to a student question, and she realizes she isn’t just intrigued by him.

She’s aroused.

It isn't entirely unbelievable, she argues with herself. Aldhelm is intelligent, and kind (in a way), if rather awkward. He’s a good teacher. His dry sense of humor seems to crop up at the most inopportune moments, which entertains her. She has a strong suspicion that he is not the type to be predisposed to a relationship with an undergrad, which makes the plan forming in her mind all the more challenging. But it’s also part of what she likes about him.

Aethelflaed considers how much of her attraction is due to his position. Is she subconsciously testing her ability to attract a man who by all rules of polite society should not reciprocate?

She evaluates the factors of attraction in her past relationships. Erik had been older, and Aethelred more experienced when she had dated him. She knows she is drawn to things outside her realm of experience, to men that exude confidence and can provide excitement (both qualities, it should be noted, had manifested in quite different ways among her past boyfriends). With Aldhelm perhaps the inherent imbalance of power is part of the appeal as well.

This plan that is forming is not part of the greater plan, not part of her parents’ plan. That plan will be fully in effect upon graduation, and it is non-negotiable. Aethelflaed is resigned to the fact that when she earns her undergraduate degree her path is clear—she will become a barrister and establish her career before marrying a stable man with above average social status and having one or more children to carry on the family legacy.

It is predictable. It is exhausting. It is not what she wants to think about during the last days of her youth, during the few years when her time is her own. For now, she will continue to excel in her studies, but in terms of her personal life she will do what she wants. And in her third year of university, what she wants is a casual relationship.

She’s never had a casual relationship before. When she was fresh to university, the thought had not been appealing. She craved stability, order, to fulfill her parents' expectations for her. Aethelred, it turned out, provided only one of those things. For all his good breeding and wealth, he had been terrible to her. It took her some time to realize how much he took her for granted, how disrespectfully he treated her. By the time she did, it was utterly humiliating to admit.

He had been her first in every respect. She’d waited a few months after they started dating to give in and have sex, during which period he’d teased her (she had thought, at the time, affectionately) and called her a prude. They’d broken up during exams that first year, on the heels of a fight over a hand job he’d received at a party—which he maintained was not cheating, and which she’d maintained was. She’d managed to think of him with less potent loathing only recently, but the end of her first year was filled with many tears and sleepless nights. She still managed to make all high marks, though she may have wandered about campus like a zombie more days than not.

The following term she’d taken great pleasure in sleeping with Erik as soon as they’d started dating. The sparks between them were instant, and the fact that he was nothing like the man her parents wanted her to date, nothing like Aethelred, only increased her attraction to him. That relationship had been hot and heavy for the entirety of her second year. She hadn't intended to let things get so serious, but she couldn't help falling a little in love with him a little too quickly. He was sweet and so good to her (and so good in bed), and when he told her he loved her she thought her heart might burst from happiness. It could not have been more different than her relationship with Aethelred from start to finish. Things had cooled slightly over the summer when they went their separate ways, and then he’d transferred schools before this term (money issues, from what she could piece together from his messages and his brother’s instagram posts) and they’d broken up amicably. He still texts her from time to time, usually something silly, a callback to the days they’d spent holed up in his dormitory watching bad television on his laptop.

Aethelflaed is determined that her third year will be different. No serious boyfriends, no drama. She will focus her energies on school first and foremost (she had been in danger of falling behind last year). But there is an undeniable itch to scratch, and with her workload increasing she needs a way to blow off steam. There’s a way to do that without things getting serious, so she sets her mind to that goal.

Aldhelm, when she begins to notice him that first week of the term, is in one sense the perfect candidate for a casual fling. Since they could never be seen in public it made things sex-only by default. No dinner dates, no social expectations, no introducing him to her friends. She has her own place, her own money, her own life. She doesn’t need anything from a partner other than the type of sexual satisfaction her vibrator cannot provide—something unpredictable. Something where she doesn’t have to be completely in control. Something new.

And he is certainly new. She can hardly conceive of a partner who has less in common with both her past boyfriends. Aldhelm has no social capital, no family name or money like Aethelred. He isn’t charismatic and impulsive, like Erik. He’s odd, a bit stiff, but for some reason, she can’t get him out of her head.

She likes that he gets works up during his lectures when the subject matter is particularly exciting to him (which, for Aldhelm, is usually infrastructure related but…to each their own). She likes the annoyance he does not attempt to veil when students show up unprepared and unashamed—Pyrlig will usually make a joke, but not Aldhelm. She likes the way he lays a hand over his mouth when listening to long-winded questions. She likes the way he will occasionally make direct eye contact while he’s speaking as if he’s temporarily only addressing her. She likes that he notices her—maybe not in _that_ way…but why not? He can be a bit cold to other students, but when it comes to her she feels sure there is definitely _something_ there. Almost like he’s seeking her approval in some kind of role reversal.

She has been considering whether the challenge of seducing him would be worth the effort for some time now, though she hadn’t started that week intending to give it a shot so soon. But by Thursday night she thinks like she might as well. She’s starting to feel wound too tight. Really, if she cares at all about her marks and her career, she will do her best to convince Aldhelm to get her off.

Friday morning she wakes up early, goes for a quick run, then showers and prepares for her first class (Contract Law at 10:00 am). The underwear she selects is neither her most outrageous, nor her most practical. She feels a solidly middle-tier option is most appropriate. She picks a shirt that’s neither too conservative nor too low cut, and a pair of practical shoes given that she has four classes plus a lunch study session.

By the time she reaches Pyrlig’s 3:00 pm course, she’s fairly exhausted from the week. She toys with the idea of delaying her plan, perhaps reconsidering altogether. But then she catches Aldhelm’s eye as he comes into the room, and that refreshes her resolve. If she needs anything that afternoon, it was casual sex. And getting him out of her head won’t hurt.

She hasn’t planned on Aethelred being part of her success, but that only makes it all the sweeter. The fact that his failure facilitates the connection between her and Aldhelm is possibly the most satisfactory part of her afternoon so far. She’s hoping there is still more satisfaction to come, of course.

And now, walking back to her flat, she’s wondering if his hopes are similar. Based on the kiss they’d just shared (a good kiss—great, even), she’s pretty sure they are.

She finally breaks the silence when they reach the main entrance of her building.

“I’m two floors up.”

The soles of her boots make a neat tapping sound as she winds through the plants that litter the interior courtyard (her landlady has an ever-expanding collection of potted ficus trees and ferns) and up the iron staircase. She smiles a bit to herself as she remembers how well her jeans fit. She has definitely put her best foot forward, next came the real test.

Dropping her keys and bag on the entryway table, she makes her way to the kitchen and begins to move the bowls and spoons (from the last two mornings of oatmeal breakfasts) from the drying rack to their proper places.

Aldhelm sets his books down on the same table and lingers there for a moment, apparently requiring further invitation to breach the sanctuary of her flat.

“Leave your jacket anywhere, I’m afraid I don't have a closet.”

She assumes he has not merely followed to borrow a bag.

She’s right.

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over the back of one of the dining chairs, pulling the sleeves down so they won't crease the shoulders. It isn’t a good jacket—none of his clothes really are, he dresses more like a banker than a professor—but that is a problem for another day.

“Want a drink? I can make tea, or—“ she gestures to the gold bar cart next to the television. “I have gin, vodka, scotch…wine.”

He barely glances at the cart, eyes darting around the room to take in his surroundings. “Gin’s fine.”

She had expected him to choose the wine. Another surprise.

He’s gravitated to the other side of the kitchen peninsula now, standing a bit stiff, one hand in his pocket. She smiles, and he’s smiling back at her, but his eyes are still narrowed slightly the way they’d been before she kissed him. He is even less in his element here. She did have the advantage over him in some ways. She’d been able to observe him for months now, whereas for him she’d been lost in a sea of students among multiple courses.

He had some catching up to do.

She breezes by him to retrieve the bottle of gin, then heads back to the kitchen.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says, wondering if he will try.

He places both hands on her kitchen counter, tapping his left fingertips almost imperceptibly. She’s seen him do that during a lecture before. He has nice hands—actually, really nice hands. The kind of hands you’d like to paint, or perhaps pull your hair.

He looks so different in this light. They’re in her territory now, and he’s apprehensive, on guard. Perhaps he’s regretting his decision. She will ask, of course, but first, she needs a drink.

She stands on her toes to grab two glasses from the shelf above the sink with one hand. They tinkle as they knock together, amplifying the silence between her and her guest. Aethelflaed pours about two fingers worth of gin into each.

“Cheers.” She slides his glass across the quartz between her thumb and pointer finger, and gently knocks the rim with her own as he picks it up.

The liquor burns her throat in a pleasant way—she does not keep cheap gin in her flat, despite what she may be willing to accept at one of Uhtred’s house parties.

Aldhelm takes a sip as well, then clears his through with a small cough.

“Sorry I don’t keep mixers around,” she says rather stupidly, as if he’s never had a drink before. But he smiles appreciatively, and that puts her mind at ease though her heartbeat has begun to accelerate.

“Anyway.” She sets her glass down. “You’ve accepted the offer of a drink. What rule are we breaking now?”

He set his own glass down and flexes his fingers over the countertop, reaching slightly closer to her own. “I suspect it may be more than one.”

His eyes drop to her chest for just a millisecond, and she congratulates herself on her choice of shirt.

“I like you, you know,” she says, taking another sip. “I don’t want to do anything that might get you in trouble.”

He huffs a laugh, the color rising in his cheeks just slightly. “Yes, I like you as well. I should think that was fairly evident by now.”

She suppresses a laugh of her own. He does have the strangest way of handling this.

“Perhaps we should set some ground rules,” she offers, leaning forward on her forearms.

His gaze never leaves hers. “Ground rules seem appropriate.”

“Right,” she nods, lacing her fingers together, “I propose we see how today goes, and engage in a mutually beneficial relationship for as long as it remains…mutually beneficial. No strings. No talking about your class, just to keep things above board.”

One of his eyebrows shoots up. He leans back and takes another sip of gin. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

“Sex,” she says bluntly, standing tall again. “If you’re interested, of course.”

His eyes are fixed on his glass but his mouth pulls into a smile he cannot prevent.

“Well?” she asks.

He meets her gaze again and takes a step nearer. She feels her heart race a bit faster.

“I can confirm I am indeed interested.”

She had known, but it is still gratifying to hear.

“We’ll need to behave like nothing has changed when we’re in public,” he adds. His voice is a bit stern, approaching the way he speaks when providing guidelines for an assignment.

She nods. “Of course. On campus you’ll treat me like you would any of your students. Friendly, nothing more.”

He draws a sharp breath, his jaw tenses.

“You feel we ought to define friendliness?”

He inclines his head in agreement, fingers curving around his now empty glass.

“No more campus tête-à-têtes,” she begins, listing items on her fingers, “No touching, of course. No lingering after class. No standing too close.”

He takes a step nearer, an almost playful expression on his face now. “This would be considered too close, I expect.”

She’s grinning, she can’t help it. “Rather, yes.”

His eyes are slightly hooded, his expression more obviously desirous than it had been in the classroom. There no restrictions to speak of between them now.

He takes a step closer still and places a hand on her waist. Her heart is now racing the way it had after her morning run.

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. She exhales a shaky breath, wets her lips, and out of courtesy waits for him to make the first move this time.

His lips part, he makes as if to speak but stops, then in one swift motion he pulls her closer.

The kiss in the classroom had begun tentatively, building in passion gradually. This kiss starts with an almost alarming amount of intensity. It’s as if he’d thought of nothing else their entire walk over and intended to pick up precisely where they’d left off.

She places her hands on his chest and revels in the feel of him. Her entire body is tingling, vibrating.

“Allow me,” he murmurs, gently moving her hands out of the way so he can loosen his tie. She wasn’t aware until that moment, but she’d been unbuttoning his shirt.

She drops her hands to his belt, pulling the loop and loosening the buckle as deftly as she can while still kissing him intermittently, clumsily.

Once his shirt is unbuttoned she slips her hands underneath to feel the contour of his shoulders. He’s staring into her eyes as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, breath ragged with anticipation—it makes her go a little weak, the way he can be so intense and so soft at once.

He helps her take his shirt off and pulls back slightly, hands lingering at her waist, tacitly requesting permission to undress her. A familiar hunger pulls at the pit of her stomach. They begin to stumble towards the bedroom, her clothes and his trousers coming off gradually as they go.

“You’re sure?” she asks once they’re by the bed. He’s nuzzling her neck and gently twisting her bra clasp—it’s loosed, his dexterity surprises her.

He breathes a laugh and cups her breast.

“Extremely.”

She slips her fingers into the elastic waist of his pants. “And will you be evaluating me on this encounter officially or unofficially?”

He glances up towards the ceiling again in that way of his, his mouth twitching with humor.

“Not to be considered within the course grade, of course,” she continues, running her hands around him to pull his waist to her belly. “Separate marks entirely.”

She can feel his smile as he kisses her again and steers her towards the bed. “You have no intention of letting me pretend this is an innocent encounter, do you?”

She cannot resist pushing him a bit further.

“No, sir.”

She takes a seat on the bed, hands clasped in his.

He’s standing between her legs again, but this time they’re nearly naked. She pulls him towards her eagerly but he shakes his head, gently lays her down, then leans over her and begins to kiss between her breasts.

Her anticipation is at a fever pitch, she wants him inside her so badly, but he’s taking his time.

He’s the one teasing her now, she’s sure of it. She supposed it was only fair, he was repaying her in kind, but still it was agonizing. The gentle touch of his fingers, the way his lips pull softly over her skin, too much and not enough at once.

Aldhelm kneels, sliding his hands underneath her until they’re supporting her lower back. He pulls her towards him then inches her underwear down as he presses his mouth to the inside of her thigh.

He wets his fingers—it’s really not necessary, she’s already soaking, but she appreciates the thought— and parts her folds. She collapses back against the bed as his tongue follows suit, stoking the warmth within her. By instinct, she reaches down to run her fingers through his hair. He leans into her touch for a moment, then resumes his work.

He winds her up, slowly at first, then pushes her to the edge. She’s arching her back, keening, unable to breathe while his mouth is on her.

Her heightened senses celebrate the feel of the slight stubble on his jawline brushing against the tender inside of her thighs. When she comes, it’s like the concurrence of a dozen small waves at once.

She catches her breath, then he’s lying at her side, panting slightly, pupils blown.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks, breath hot as he presses a kiss to her collarbone.

“If you’re navigating a way out, you’re doing it poorly,” she gasps.

He’s smiling again—god, how she loves to elicit that from him—and he massages her palm with his thumb then brings her hand to his lips—a strange, chivalric kiss, belied by their pose. He’s reclining on his side, holding like a boat in the tide, neither coming nor going, but still tethered. She takes his hand and loses herself in his eyes for a moment.

The space between them now is deeply layered. Satisfaction, titillation, and desire all feed off each other at every touch. Aethelflaed is still lingering in the glow of her orgasm, but the urge to bring him to the same plane is too strong for her to rest for long.

She takes him in her hand, and he reclines, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, a quiet moan escaping his lips. She loves that sound as much as his laugh. He’s hard already, she cannot wait to take him in. She reaches behind her— the nightstand is just beyond her grasp, so she rolls towards it and grabs a rubber, ripping the foil between her teeth as she settles in beside him. He makes as if to help her, but she pins his arm behind his head for a moment, kissing him and pulling his lower lip between her teeth.

“No, my turn.”

He exhales—a noise of surprise, delight—and lies back again. She rolls the rubber on and straddles him, kissing the underside of his jaw, his neck, his chest as she feels his anticipation grow. Then she wraps her fingers round his biceps and begins to grind against him.

She’s wet from his attentions, but her desire is enough to help her build the friction she needs. She guides him inside her, and he springs into action—he’s rising towards her, pulling her down, running a hand through her hair, hungry, desperate.

His hands move to her hips, directing her, then he slips a finger in her, drawing ovals around her clit as her hips rise and fall. His focus on his own climax is only matched by his industriousness as regards hers.

“Fuck, Aldhelm—“

His smile is wolf-like now. She didn’t know he could look so feral. She gets close, then he senses her falling away and doubles his efforts. With a cry she’s falling, transcending. When she returns to herself she feels him come too.

She lets herself slip onto the bed, cradled in the crook of his shoulder. One brief kiss to her nose, then his eyes close. She pulls a blanket over them and they rest, coming down from the peak together. He’s finally relaxed, no hint of tension in his body as he absentmindedly strokes her arm.

“Was that sufficiently fun?” he murmurs after a moment.

She lays a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath it.

“I can confirm that it was, professor.”

He smiles softly, eyes opening just a sliver so he can look down the bridge of his nose at her. Through the semi-sheer curtains she can see the light outside has begun to die. It must be growing late by now.

His gaze hasn’t shifted, but he grows more pensive, forehead slightly furrowed.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, though she has a sneaking suspicion she shouldn’t.

“What happens now?” he asks, then seeing her eyebrows quirk up he adds, “I mean, what are the rules for our….post-coital sessions?”

An involuntary chuckle escapes her. He’s such an odd blend of completely serious and utterly absurd, lying beside her in this state but veiling his question in such technical terms.

“I hadn’t though that far,” she admits.

His eyes flick over her face, he turns his head slightly. She can see the adam’s apple bob in his neck. She wants to kiss it, but she refrains. They ought to talk about what comes next.

“If, for example, I wanted to buy you dinner—from the comfort of your own flat, of course…is that allowed?”

She traces a finger along his sternum. ‘“I don’t see why not, I suppose.”

He closes his eyes again, slipping one hand behind his head and rolling his neck. He can’t be very comfortable, practically hanging off the bed, no pillow, but he doesn’t seem inclined to move.

Aethelflaed doesn't care to either, until her stomach begins to growl. They both break into laugher.

She sits up and grabs her robe from the bedpost, wrapping herself in the soft pink fabric. He’s propped himself up on one elbow now, his mouth pulling into a smirk.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.”

He watches her jump off the bed and brush her hair back from her face.

“There’s a great Thai place up the street. I’ll run out and grab something in a moment.”

“I was meant to buy you dinner,” he reminds her.

“You can get the next one,” she says, raising her voice slightly so that he can hear her over the running water. “Besides, no one ought to see you coming out and back in, just to be safe.”

The smile on his face, she tells herself as she closes the door to the bathroom, is decidedly casual.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, you can reblog the photoset [here.](https://aadmelioraa.tumblr.com/post/637410134455451648/aadmelioraa-modern-au-college-au)
> 
> The next installment is going to be set on campus and from Aldhelm's POV (I'm pretty sure), but let me know if you have any requests!
> 
> I should state, this is loosely set in the UK (I mean...generally speaking), but I am from the US so there are probably some oddities and discrepences here and there. If there's a term I ought to switch out or any other changes I ought to make so it reads better please feel free to let me know.


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